


Steve/Sam ficlets

by pearwaldorf



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-04-20 15:55:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4793513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearwaldorf/pseuds/pearwaldorf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An archive of Steve/Sam ficlets I've posted to my Tumblr. Mostly G but any explicit/NSFW chapters will be marked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. hiking

Steve’s not sure how much he’s into this whole “nature” thing, especially when it involves getting up before dawn and stumbling along a poorly marked trail. But he loves Sam and he trusts him, so he’s hoping there’s going to be some payoff for getting whacked in the face by branches.

They stop, finally, and Sam takes out his wings. Steve grabs him around the waist, and they fly up to a giant branch, sturdy enough to support both of them. The sun comes up over the horizon, illuminating the mountains and forest and lake. He looks over at Sam, who just smiles, slow and pleased and just a tiny bit smug. Steve kisses him, but only so he doesn’t have to say Sam was right.


	2. things you said when I was drunk

“Thor brought something back from Asgard. He forgot to give it to me last time I was in New York.” Steve’s holding a finely cut bottle of pale golden liquid. Sam doesn’t know anything about Asgardian liquor, but he has a feeling it’s potent, the way you down sweet drinks and don’t realize you’re gone until you try and stand up. “I thought we might break it out tonight?”

“I don’t know, man. You sure you don’t want to save it for a special occasion?” Sam has respect for his alcohol. It feels rude to throw something like this back like a bottle of Corona.

“I’m learning to take my moments where I can,” he says, a slow, sad smile crossing his face. Sam’s becoming familiar with this one. It comes out only when he’s thinking of Bucky or Peggy, about times spent together and how many more there should have been. They don’t talk about it much, but enough that he knows they still weigh heavy on Steve when he has a quiet moment.

“I’ll put in a movie we should be drunk for.” Steve smiles again, this time sweet and bright, and Sam’s heart flips in his chest.

The liquor itself is softly effervescent, sweet without being cloying. It’s redolent of ginger and a hint of coriander, with enough presence that he can taste it when he kisses Steve. Sam is amused to see that Steve gets red when he gets drunk, and remarkably emphatic. He yells good-naturedly at the gaping plot and logic holes in the movie, and angrily when the hero is thwarted by the villain. Sam tugs Steve down from where he’s perched on the edge of the seat, absorbed by the action, and he melts into Sam’s side in a way he’s never done when he’s sober.

“This’s really nice. We should do this more often.” Steve mumbles into Sam’s chest. Sam kisses his forehead softly.

“Tell Thor to bring back a case next time he goes back to Asgard.” Steve laughs and promises to pass the message along. They sleep through the credits, the TV flickering softly in the dark.


	3. tied up [nsfw]

“You sure I don’t need to get Stark to make something special for you?” Sam asks again as he checks for space against the rope. It’s strong as well as soft, but he’s not sure they make bondage rope for supersoldiers available commercially.

Steve huffs, mostly affectionately. “I said I’d be good. And also, mentioning Tony doesn’t exactly get me in the mood.”

Sam laughs. “Fair enough.” Satisfied with the knots at Steve’s wrists and ankles, he makes sure there’s a pair of shears within easy reach on the table next to the bed, as well as water. Mostly he’s fussing to give Steve time to get used to the feeling of being tied up. Judging by the way his eyes flutter closed and the way his body relaxes, he likes it just fine.

Sam clambers over Steve and kisses him gently, feeling Steve’s lips curve into a smile under his touch. He also feels Steve’s fingers trying to reach out for him, touch what they can. He taps Steve gently on the cheek as a reminder.

“We talked about this.” He’s mock stern, and Steve pouts, exaggerated. Sam curls Steve’s fingers back towards his palms, traces the lines of rope around his wrists. He enjoys the way Steve’s breath quickens when he does that, enough that he doesn’t bother to reprimand Steve when his hips rock against him. He reaches down and palms Steve’s cock, relishing the way his eyes darken at the sight.

“I’m asking you again. Are you going to be good?” Steve makes a little noise in his throat and nods.

Sam kisses him again, less gently. “That’s what I like to hear.”


	4. conversations with the crows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For cosmictuesdays
> 
> Content notes: blood, gunshot injury, hospitals

There’s so much blood--Sam’s blood--and it’s all over Steve’s hands, soaking through the layers of bandages he piled on the wound, dripping onto his uniform. He feels it drying as the EMTs wheel Sam into the operating room, crust stiff as he paces in the waiting area. It occurs to him, vaguely, from far away, that it might not be a bad idea to rinse himself off, change his clothes. But then he might miss the doctor, and what if they have news? So he agonizes, and frets, and waits. 

The doctor comes out of the swinging doors, less bloody than Steve but still more bloody than he would like. She looks tired, and runs her fingers through her short hair, making it stand on end. Despite himself and everything, Steve still finds it a little funny. 

“I’ve done everything I can. The rest is up to him, and whatever you believe in, if anything. But he’s young, and strong. That helps.” 

Steve nods. “Thank you. For--” He gestures, and sees his hands. He grimaces, because it’s the first time he’s really looked at them in a while. 

The doctor pats him on the arm, in a place where the fabric is still clean. “You really should go home and get cleaned up, get some rest if you think you’re able. You can’t do anything more for him here.” She gives him a gentle push towards the exit.

The cab drops him off at the place he and Sam are staying (he hesitates to call it a home). He strips off his filthy uniform and takes a shower. It’s a long time before the water runs clear. 

He steps out on the porch in bare feet, still towelling his hair dry. There’s a bird feeder, and some crows pecking at the seed. One of them looks straight at him, curious and unafraid. 

Maybe it’s because Steve hasn’t gotten any sleep in three days, but it seems perfectly rational to address the bird. “My friend got shot in the gut today. It was supposed to be a simple op. But our intel was bad, and there were so many more than we expected. I should have called a retreat, but I thought we could handle it.”

“Caw!” It says sharply.

Steve sighs. “You’re right. I thought _I_ could handle it. I was wrong, and Sam paid the price.” 

“Craw,” it says, somewhat less emphatically than before.

“He likes birds, you know. Maybe you should tell him he needs to make it.” He sits down on a chair, takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him too.” He swears the bird nods before it flies off, but he’s starting to crash, and he has barely enough forethought to stumble into the bedroom. The pillow still smells like Sam.

He wakes up when he hears the text message ping on his phone. It’s from Natasha, telling him Sam’s awake. He changes and gets to the hospital as fast as he can. 

Sam’s whole middle is bandaged up, but he looks way, way better than the last time Steve saw him. He wants to drop to his knees and beg Sam’s forgiveness for getting him into this mess. Instead, he sits in the chair next to Sam’s bed and kisses his hand, silently thanking whatever watches over the people he loves. 

“Hey,” he says. “How you feeling?”

“I’ve had better days, not gonna lie.” Sam shifts, then winces. “But the happy drugs still work on me, so I’m all right for now.” 

“Glad to hear it.” Steve laces his fingers into Sam’s, just grateful he can do this. 

“You know, the strangest thing happened this morning.” Sam says. “I was sleeping, and this crow started pecking the window. I woke up, and it looked right at me and cawed. Then it flew off.” 

Steve blinks, because this can’t be a thing that’s happening. “Crows are strange. Who knows what it was up to.”

Sam shrugs. “Maybe a little birdie had something to tell me.” 

Steve smiles, and kisses Sam’s forehead. “Maybe it did.”


End file.
